


Love, looser of limbs

by LyricDreamweaver



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Anal Sex, Holodecks/Holosuites, Klingon love poetry, Klingon mating rituals, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricDreamweaver/pseuds/LyricDreamweaver
Summary: Data isreallygood with a bat'leth and Worf is very impressed.





	Love, looser of limbs

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Aristotle's song here:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homosexuality_in_the_militaries_of_ancient_Greece#Social_aspects

Data was the best person on the Enterprise to spar with. He could withstand more than Worf's human crew-mates (and Beverly was getting sick of dealing with broken arms every week). Data also wasn't half-bad with a bat'leth. 

For the third time this session, Data had managed to disarm Worf, the Klingon's own bat'leth sliding across the faux-cave floor, metal grating on stone.

"You've gotten better," Worf noted, watching the android take a relaxed stance. 

Data bowed his head, just barely. "I had hoped to provide a more satisfactory training experience for you."

"You certainly did." Worf picked up his bat'leth.

The moment the weapon was in Worf's hand, Data assumed a fighting stance—legs apart for balance and the bat'leth held in two hands. The android narrowed his eyes, ready to strike.

Like this, the android made an attractive figure. With his experience, Data could easily pass for Klingon, with a few minor adjustments. 

"Data."

"Worf."

"I am done for today," Worf said.

Data blinked, then assumed his more relaxed state of standing stock-still, bat'leth in his left hand. "Understandable."

Worf offered Data his right hand, the android taking it. 

The Klingon pulled the android close and raised Data's right hand to his lips, catching the scent of the android—clean and with an underlying artificial smell. It took a moment to process but Data simply raised a brow just slightly.

"Worf."

"Data."

Data gripped the Klingon's hand, piercing skin and causing Worf to bleed. Worf growled and dugs his nails into Data's palm, biolubricant mingling with blood. Slowly, they let go of each other, eyes locked in an unspoken battle for dominance. 

Data conceded.

Worf and Data fell in step, Worf advancing and peeling off his shirt in one fluid movement and Data observing and backing up until the android's back pressed against a rough outcropping of stone. But this was right where Worf wanted--needed--Data. The Klingon placed a hand on the android's hip and the implicit command processed. Together, they positioned themselves against the rock, Data's legs wrapped around Worf's waist.

Worf buried his face in Data's neck, breathing in the android's scent of silicon and biolubricant. "Two hearts of equal passion—one forged of gods."

"Worf?"

"A poem. I . . . wrote it for you."

"Oh." Data dug his nails into Worf's back hard, hard enough to draw blood and leave deep scratches. "That is a romantic gesture."

"Yes." Worf ground his hips against Data's, feeling the android's arousal pressing against him. "one forged of gods and one forged of man."

Data hummed, adjusting his position to slide Worf's pants down, exposing the Klingon's cock. Worf growled and sunk his teeth into the android hard, hard enough to break Data's bioplast. Biolubricant spilled across Worf's tongue, leaving a blooming taste of sharp and sweet.

"Ah." Data seemed worried about his bioplast, raising a hand to touch where Worf had bit; the Klingon slammed Data's hand against the rock.

The scent of biolubricant—sharper than the taste—made the Klingon shiver against the android. "You, honourable heart, shine brighter than a freshly polished bat'leth."

Worf adjusted his hold on Data to pull the android's pants down enough, exposing Data's arousal. Data raised one hand to his mouth, coating his own fingers in faux-saliva, a translucent gold shining on Data's fingers. Reaching between his own thighs, Data worked himself open, keeping eye contact with Worf, who growled and crashed his mouth against the android's, teeth against teeth. Worf bit into the android's lower lip, piercing bioplast. More biolubricant oozed into both of their mouths. 

Data moaned, tilting his head back ever so slightly. Worf slowly, reluctantly, released Data's lower lip. The android's hand moved faster between his thighs. Only when Data removed his hand did Worf take it as permission to lower the android, penetrating him slowly.

Data's breathing hitched, eyes wide at the new sensation. Worf gave a shallow thrust, the tightness of the android. 

Slowly, they fell into a rhythm, Data adjusting to Worf and Worf holding Data just right. Rocking against each other and exchanging affectionate bites when they could, each seeking to draw blood. With each thrust, Data's shirt rode up, bioplast scraping against the rough stone wall, leaving the android writhing just enough. Worf was almost sure, for a moment, he would tear Data in half or, at the very least, leave the equivalent of bruises across the android's skin.

"If the day comes for you to die, I will cleave through a thousand armies," Worf panted into the android's neck, taking in the sharp scent of biolubricant, of sweat, of mating, "in your name to ensure  
your spirit resides forever in Stovokor."

Data gave a low groan, thighs pressing into Worf's waist with a bruising pressure, nails seeking purchase in the Klingon's back. Each sharp pain, low coaxing of soreness, only spurred Worf on, determined to mate the android his mate. 

"To you, I raise my glass." 

Data came with a low groan, head tilted back against the cool stone. Rivulets of gold biofluid coated Worf's abdomen. 

Worf simply held Data against the stone, the sensation of the android's muscles squeezing every drop from the Klingon. Worf, panting, buried his face in Data's neck, sucking harsh enough to leave marks that only disappeared seconds later. 

"Qapla'," Worf muttered.

In the afterglow, neither wanted to move, Data's processors riding on an overdrive, the android content to be held just a moment longer. And Worf, after so long without a proper coupling, was more than content to gently bite along the android's collarbones.

"Worf."

"Mm."

"You can release me," Data said after a while. "I believe I might need repairs to my bioplast as well as my wrist."

"In a moment."

Data blinked, making no move to struggle. It was, after all, more suggestion than command.

**Author's Note:**

> So the poem goes:
> 
> Two hearts of equal passion—  
> one forged of gods  
> and one forged of man.
> 
> You, honorable heart,  
> shine brither than  
> a freshly polished bat'leth.
> 
> If the day comes for you to die,  
> I will cleave through a thousand  
> armies in your name to ensure  
> your spirit resides forever in Stovokor.
> 
> To you, I raise my glass.  
> Qapla'.


End file.
